It was a playground built to look like a nightmare.
Emmy saw a chain with a hook dangling below a box, and her nose told her something mechanical was up there. Likely a winch.
Spence jumped onto the bondage table. “Most of you have set a per-hour fee for purchase outside of balls and feeding frenzies. If a vampire wishes to make use of you at whatever your level, they’ll likely do so here. They can also invite you into their quarters, and you’ll be escorted there and back out by security.”
Beside her, Felix went utterly still, and his scent shifted fast and hard, all pretense stripped away. Not just arousal, butneed— intense, hungry, and laced with adrenaline. The scent curled in her gut like heat, and she slid an arm around his waist and pulled him into a sideways hug, grounding him without comment. He let her, leaning just enough to press against her, but his eyes stayed locked on the room. Whatever the Lupanar whispered to him, it had his full attention. Felix had been to Mordnik before, was he remembering or anticipating?
Spence jumped down from the table, walked to the door, motioned them out, and closed it behind them. They rounded a corner ten yards away, and the corridor opened into what was literally a hole in the floor with a single stair rail sticking up to grab hold of before descending.
The vertical chasm where the missile had once stood, a weapon meant to end the world.
The previous owner had filled the empty center with a spiral staircase — and a fireman’s pole stood phallically in the center of the whole thing.
She walked to the pole and looked down, to see what seven floors looked like from this angle. She couldn’t wait to try it out.
“There’ll be certifications later,” Spence said. “Unless you’ve been here before and are already certified, you’re stuck using the stairs.”
He was looking directly at her when he said it, and she smiled sweetly at him and stepped away, though she was tempted to do it just on principle.
But there was a thousand-dollar fine plus the possibility of being kicked out, which would mean she wouldn’t earn more than a year’s worth of salary in three months.
And she begrudgingly had to admit her parents had done one of the things they’d promised when they cut her access to her trust fund: they’d taught her the value of money.
She tuned back into what Spence was saying, reminding them you had to count to twenty after the last person left before you could use the pole, and that if you were slower than most, you should warn the person following you.
Emmy heard a whoosh of sound, and then Lucien shot up out of the staircase and landed with a predator’s grace. She’d known the high staircase allowed for flight over the heads of the walking daywalkers, but this brought it home.
The bastard didn’t even glance their way. Just touched down, turned on his heel, and walked off without a word, like they weren’t even standing there.
Emmy’s spine went rigid. Her stomach flipped and shriveled, and a cold clutch of dread curled under her ribs before she could shove it back. Even her scent changed, and she fought to bring it under control at the memory of …No. She shook her head and brought herself back to the present moment.
She’d learned her lesson with Lucien. No need in going back over it.
But she’d sure as hell never trust another vampire.
“No jumping up and grabbing them,” Spence said. “Even level one people can be whipped for certain offenses, and that’s one of them.”
Right. A fine for sure, and up to twelve lashes if the vampire demanded it.
Twice per week, there’s a punishment event in the theater, or theatre, as it’s spelled in the literature. If no one’s in trouble, level three people can be paid to stand in and create entertainment.
They followed him down the staircase, and she noted a uniformed security guard tailed the group.
There were no doors coming off the first landing, just a wide-open space to walk through into a spectacular circular room. Emmy had a feeling she’d crave ninety-degree corners after three months living in a vertical tube.
The room was massive, easily the size of a small cathedral, with towering Corinthian columns supporting vaulted ceilings painted in deep indigo and gold. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen fireworks, each glittering with hundreds of tiny, flickering lights. The floors were a work of art: dark, inlaid wood patterned with graceful arcs and swirling leaves, polished to a mirror shine.
The columns were gold-trimmed, sparkling in the faux-candlelight.
“Le Bacchanal Ballroom Magnifique,” Spence said.
Even empty, the space vibrated with decadence. Emmy could almost hear the rustle of ballgowns, the echo of moans, the crack of whips softened by orchestral music. Along the outer rim, she spotted subtle markings — the same track pattern from the Aurora Ballroom. A running track lined with fancy inlaid tile, rather than wood.
“Basketball and frisbee is fine in the Aurora Ballroom,” Spence said. “Not in here. The perimeter track gives you a warmer place to run, but we don’t do other sports in here without permission. There are some yoga classes in this room, but most everything sports-related happens either topside or in the theatre if you need more space than the flock gym, which we’ll see when we reach that floor. This room hosts six scheduled balls per year, approximately one every other week.”
Back to the spiral staircase, down one floor, and then into the theater — again, with no doors. It was the same size as the ballroom, but with a huge stage on one end.
And no less extravagant.
